


Unspoken

by blueshifted



Series: Across the Years [2]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Forcibly silenced, Gen, Homophobia, Self-Deception, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:37:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshifted/pseuds/blueshifted
Summary: Sometimes things go unsaid. Because of fear. Because of shame. Or, because Deceit discovered a new trick he can do.





	Unspoken

Fifteen was a terrible age.

The first week of Thomas’s sophomore year was almost over— just two more classes to get through before the weekend. Then maybe, _finally_ , Anxiety could get some rest. It would be two whole blessed days of not having to worry about classes, or who to sit with at lunch, or acne, or that new boy sitting next to Thomas in History…

Wait.

 

* * *

 

Thomas glanced over at his classmate. He was definitely new this year; Thomas hadn’t been paying that much attention during roll call, so he wasn’t quite sure what his name was. But he looked cool, and Thomas wanted to introduce himself— the only question was, how to go about it?

 

* * *

 

Anxiety tensed; _not this again_. 

 

* * *

 

The new kid glanced up— not even looking towards Thomas, but Thomas still jerked his head down before he got caught staring like a weirdo. Heat prickled up the back of his neck and into his cheeks, and Thomas was suddenly very occupied with rolling his pencil up and down his desk.

 

* * *

 

Anxiety exhaled, rubbing at his temple. The last three years, he’d had more work than ever, which was the absolute last thing he had _ever_ wanted. Of course, Anxiety pretty much never wanted anything more than to curl up in a ball and sleep. Nowadays, though, it seemed like he couldn’t let his guard down for five seconds without Thomas stumbling into a potentially embarrassing or painful situation, and he was _exhausted_.

Logic had described high school as this huge, volatile, chemical reaction, moments away from exploding and leaving you covered in acid burns. Anxiety would never agree with him out loud, but between teachers, tests, homework, parents, friends, everyone else, and trying to fit in _somewhere_ in all of that— he couldn’t help but think Logic was right.

Oh, and of course, just to make it extra fun, there was _puberty_.

Anxiety ran both of his hands over his face, then flopped back onto his bed with a groan. It would have been bad enough if he’d just had to deal with Thomas starting to notice girls. No, that would be too simple. Anxiety’s groan turned into more of a growl. Then he huffed, raking his hands through his hair.

He supposed it could be worse. He could have had to deal with it by himself.

Not that Deceit was the partner Anxiety would have picked if he’d had any choice, but it wasn’t exactly like he was swimming in options. The others had never really moved past what happened in the imagination three years ago; these days, they avoided him for the most part.

Morality was just kind of quiet and subdued around Anxiety. Logic was starting to come out of his shell more and be less shy, but he was also usually silent in Anxiety’s presence— and his silence always carried the weight of disapproval. And _Roman—_  as Creativity was calling himself now— had never forgiven Anxiety; he made no secret of the hostility he felt for the other side.

Anxiety told himself, he didn’t care. He’d gotten louder too, bolstered by having someone else that actually worked _with_ him instead of just hating him.

Not that Anxiety would call Deceit a friend by any stretch of the imagination. The more he’d gotten to know Deceit, the more the dishonest side grated on his nerves. Of course, Deceit didn’t seem altogether happy to be working with _him_ , either; his patience with Anxiety seemed to run shorter and shorter these days. But, Anxiety also knew that he needed the other side. If he alienated Deceit, then it’d be _everyone_ against him, and the idea of that was more than his stomach could handle.

So, for the last three years, they’d worked in a sort of tandem, to keep Thomas from admitting the terrifying truth to himself— that he liked boys. Deceit would conceal those thoughts as best he could, and when he wasn’t able to, Anxiety would kick in to get Thomas to avoid thinking or talking about it.

Anxiety grimaced. He was picking up Deceit’s slack a lot more, lately. It didn’t help that Roman seemed to make it his personal mission to get Thomas to realize his feelings, and deliberately try to ruin everything Anxiety had fought for.

 _Two more classes. Two more, and we get to go home_.

Not that that didn’t come with its own stresses, but at least it was away from school, and class work, and boys that made Thomas blush.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. There wasn’t even so much as a hiccup of disruption from the other sides, which should have been Anxiety’s first clue that something was up. At the time, he just assumed that Logic was keeping a tight hold of the reins, and trying to keep Thomas focused on taking notes instead of on whats-his-name. There was hardly even any homework for Thomas to do when they finally got home, and it was simple enough that he went ahead and flipped on the TV while he started to work.

Anxiety took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Some mindless homework, then an afternoon of cartoons once it was finished? It was the first opportunity he’d had to unwind all week. Surely Thomas would be fine if he rested for just a little while, right?

He only meant to lay down on his bed, to put his headphones on and relax. If his eyes drifted shut after a few minutes, so what? For once, everything was peaceful, but who knew how long that was going to last. He had to take this moment while he still could…

 

* * *

 

Anxiety’s eyes snapped open.

His heartbeat hammered against the inside of his chest; something was wrong. He scrambled to get himself untangled from his comforter and his headphones and get free of his bed– he’d fallen asleep, and something was _wrong_.

How could he be so stupid? He should have known better than to let down his guard! Sliding off the side of the bed, Anxiety tried to get a grip on his emotions, tried to focus on what Thomas was doing, to figure out what was going on.

They were still at home– Thomas was sitting on the couch. The television was still on— but Thomas wasn’t paying attention. He was fiddling with the remote, lost in thought, thinking about—

Anxiety swore. “No— no, no, _no!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Thomas had done his best to put it out of his mind all afternoon. He’d listened to his teachers, taken his notes… kept his eyes pointedly forward, and not on any of his classmates.

He’d come home, done his homework, watched TV… He’d even laughed and joked around with his brothers some. But his mind kept going back to seventh period.

When the new kid had looked up, and he had looked away— he was just trying not to be rude and stare, Thomas told himself. _Really? You were worried he’d think you were_ ** _rude_** _?_

The unbidden thought had Thomas’s face growing hot again, and his stomach flipped, full of… he wasn’t sure what. Why was he feeling like this? Geez, why did he have to be so weird all the time, why was he making such a big _deal_ out of this…

Because… it wasn’t the first time this had happened. As much as Thomas didn’t want to admit it to himself, as much as he tried to avoid thinking about it, this wasn’t new.

Thomas stood up abruptly and looked around; he didn’t hear any of his brothers. Probably outside or off at a friend’s house. He turned off the TV, and made his way to the stairs, headed for his room. He needed… he needed to think. He needed to be _alone_ to think.

He closed the bedroom door behind him. He exhaled, then took another breath.

“Okay… okay.” It didn’t feel okay. It felt like he might puke. Or take off for outer space. Thomas was so full of jittery energy he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he started to pace.

So, he was looking at one of his classmates. Then the boy had looked back at Thomas and he had felt… what? Embarrassed? Anxious?

…Excited?

What about the other times he’d felt like this? This fluttery, so-warm-it’s-uncomfortable feeling? It had been when he’d met someone new, or spotted someone he didn’t recognize across the cafeteria, or sat next to some boy on the bus—

Thomas almost tripped, then froze, heart racing.

That was just… that… Thomas knew he was a goofball. He knew that other kids thought he was strange. He just got nervous about acting too silly or weird when he met new people, it wasn’t…

…Was it?

Had… had he ever felt this way about a girl before?

Thomas sucked for air. He’d never thought to ask that before. He’d always figured he was what his mom called a ‘late bloomer’— he was having too much fun being a kid to worry about girls yet, but it’d happen eventually. Eventually, he’d figure out what his friends meant when they talked about _liking_ this girl, or having a _crush_ on that one.

Was it… was it like this?

Wanting desperately to get their attention but also scared of it? Wanting to be their friend, worried they’re going to think you’re not cool. Staring, and hoping you don’t get caught?

…Butterflies in your stomach?

Was this what it was like to have a crush on someone?

Thomas sat down hard on the edge of his bed, sinking into the mattress, eyes starting to sting.

 

* * *

 

“No— no, this isn’t _anything_ , he’s just confused—”

“ _Shut it_ , Deceit!” Roman crowed. He held aloft both of his fists, each tightly wrapped around the hand of one of his fellow sides, and his mouth split into a triumphant grin. Morality and Logic were more subdued, but both looked equally determined, and Deceit’s insides twisted. “He’s not listening to you anymore!”

If Deceit were being honest with himself, Thomas probably couldn’t even _hear_ him at the moment. The energy that was thrumming through the common area was vibrating his skull. Still, he kept trying– saying anything he could think of to try to regain control of the situation.

Nothing worked. Maybe, if he’d had Anxiety, if he’d had just a little more time to react— but Roman had been very clever. He’d waited for the opportune moment, then blindsided Deceit. And, with the other two sides firmly supporting him, lending their influence to his own— Deceit didn’t stand a chance.

 

* * *

 

Thomas lifted his hand, resting it over his mouth, his other arm wrapping around his stomach. His eyes were so full of tears, he couldn’t see anything but a blur.

And then finally, quietly— tearfully— he whispered to himself what he had been denying for years:

“…I’m gay.”

 

* * *

 

Deceit flinched as though he had been sucker punched; it hurt almost as bad, to have years of lies stripped away and discarded like they were nothing. He wrapped his arms around his middle, panting, then looked back up at the others.

They were _smiling_.

They were squeezing each other’s hands and nodding to each other; Roman looked _exhilarated_.

Deceit’s expression twisted into dismay. “Do you have any clue what you just did?” He made one last desperate push, trying to plant even the tiniest bit of doubt in Thomas’s mind.

Roman’s smile didn’t fade, it just became a smirk. He had too much influence right now, especially backed up by the other two, and he knew it. “ _I_ —”

“ _We_ ,” Logic cut in with a flat look.

Roman rolled his eyes, but amended his statement. “ _We_ have lifted the veil from Thomas’s eyes. It’s _over_ , Deceit, he knows the truth! You and Anxiety can’t stop him from being happy any more.”

“He was happy _not knowing_ ,” Deceit grit out.

“He was never really going to be happy lying to himself,” Morality returned, voice soft.

“So take a hike, _Voldemort_.” Roman drew himself up to his full height, puffing his chest out, still clinging to Morality and Logic’s hands. “Today marks the start of a new era!”

“Are the dramatics strictly necessary?”

Ignoring Logic, Roman went on. “One in which Thomas is finally free to be himself! To like who he wants to like! And he _never_ has to worry about hiding who he truly is, _ever—_ ”

The mindscape rocked, a low _boom_ pounding through all of their chests, and the temperature of the room plummeted.

“ **You need to shut. Up** … **NOW**.”

The other three sides tried to steady each other, caught off guard by the sudden shift in power— but then they gaped up at the figure now standing in the hallway off of the living room, which was steadily growing darker.

 

* * *

 

“…Oh my God. Oh my _God_ , I’m…” Thomas took a shaky breath, then let it out as a half-sob, before clamping his hand back over his mouth, head whipping to look at his bedroom door.

Oh God, what if someone had heard? What if they found out??

Thomas leapt from the foot of his bed, grabbing for his door and locking it as fast as he could. Then he backpedaled, back towards his bed, stumbling as he bumped into it.

Again, he sat. Again, he clutched at his mouth. This time, tears flowed freely.

No one could know.

 

* * *

 

“No—  _no!_ ”

Deceit didn’t need to hear Roman’s dismayed cry or Morality’s gasp or Logic’s sound of disbelief to realize that Anxiety had overpowered all three of them. Deceit let out the breath he’d been holding, ducking his head and leaning heavily against the back of the couch.

The other side had instilled a renewed fear of being hated in Thomas, a fear of others knowing the truth— not the most elegant solution, but at least he had stopped Roman before he could do more damage.

“You… you… _jerk!_ ” Roman raged. “What the heck is the _matter_ with you??”

Anxiety just narrowed his eyes, glare fixed on the creative side. “I said, **shut up**.”

Roman did his best not to flinch as Anxiety’s voice distorted again, becoming inhumanly deep; he didn’t quite manage it. His heart was starting to race and his insides were twisting into knots; beside him, he could feel Morality shudder. Anxiety was affecting more than just Thomas.

“You… you have no right to do this.” Roman hated the way his voice quavered. He took a harsh breath, trying to muster as much confidence as he could, not caring if it was real or faked. “You claim that you’re protecting Thomas, but you’re causing him more pain than any teasing ever could!”

“ _Teasing?_ ” Anxiety challenged. “You think that all that’s going to come of this, is _teasing?_ People who are different get _eaten alive_. The only _safe_ thing to do is _keep quiet_.”

Roman was _not_ going to let himself be intimidated by Anxiety. For Thomas’s sake, he couldn’t. So he squared his shoulders, looked Anxiety dead in the eye, and tried to summon as much of his courage for Thomas as possible. “Thomas is _strong_. He has people that care about him, who will accept him, and help him to _stay_ strong. He _doesn’t have to be afraid_.”

Roman felt a hand slip back into his— Morality’s— and for the briefest second, he held out hope that he might just be able to break through to Thomas.

Then Anxiety snorted. “Nice speech.”

Just like that, Roman’s hope shattered, and he could feel himself quailing. Morality squeezed his hand in a silent show of support, which Roman appreciated, but… He had fought so hard for Thomas. He had fought, and still failed. What good was he?

“Roman.”

Logic’s steady voice broke through Roman’s spiral of self-deprecating thoughts, and Roman glanced up. Logic looked tired, worn down, even stressed, but still somehow managed to sound calm when he spoke. “We need to leave.” Roman opened his mouth, wanting to protest, but Logic gave a slight shake of his head. “Thomas is distressed enough already; if we stay, we’ll only make it worse.” His gaze flicked over to Morality.

Any argument Roman would have made died in his throat. Morality was doing his best to hold it together, but he was clearly hit the hardest, both by Anxiety’s influence and by Thomas’s current emotional state. His eyes were misty behind his glasses, and he shivered; Roman took the moral side’s hand in both of his and returned the squeeze, hoping to return some of the comfort with it. The weak smile Morality gave him showed that his attempt was appreciated, if not successful.

Roman turned back to Anxiety and Deceit, letting out a weary breath. Logic was right; Anxiety was too strong right now, and he had no sway with Thomas at the moment. “All right,” he said. “I give in. For the moment.” He sketched a mock bow towards Anxiety, who just kept glowering at him.

Then Roman straightened. “But, I still have one triumph.” He leveled his gaze at Anxiety one last time. “Thomas realized the _truth_. And that’s something that _neither_ of you can take away.”

He at least had the minor satisfaction of seeing Deceit stiffen and Anxiety bristle; having gotten in the last word, Roman sank out, the other two right behind him.

Deceit pushed himself away from the couch, stretching out his back and making a sound of displeasure. Anxiety just stared at the spot where the other three had stood. His expression was blank, but his stomach churned.

Because he knew all too well, the creative side was _right_.

 

* * *

 

The days that followed were no less tense. So much for any hope of a relaxing weekend.

Anxiety trudged into the kitchen. Thomas hadn’t acquired much of a taste for coffee yet, but he had tried it enough that they could manifest it in the mindscape. Thank _God_.

And he had thought he was exhausted _before_. Hah.

Anxiety knew it was his own doing; he’d maintained his hold on Thomas’s psyche not just immediately after the fight, but over the last three days. What other choice did he have?

Of course, _that_ upset _everyone_ else. Logic had already tried confronting the anxious side once. Anxiety supposed, if he looked at it objectively, he could understand Logic’s point. After all, he wasn’t just affecting Thomas, or even just his immediate surroundings— the whole mindscape was still cold, and was starting to look grayer. And _he_ hated feeling anxious all the time, he certainly didn’t expect anyone _else_ to enjoy it (although a tiny vindictive part of him might have gotten just a little bit of satisfaction from it).

But Anxiety had still shut Logic down and sent him scurrying back to Creativity—  _Roman—_  and Morality. He wasn’t worried about those three, or at least, that’s what Anxiety told himself.

It would have been nice if _Deceit_ would stop giving him flak, though.

Anxiety wasn’t sure what he had expected; safe to say, the dishonest side had been less than grateful. Part of that Anxiety could chalk up to him still being angry over getting bested by Roman and the other two.

But more than that— Deceit was irritated at _him_.

The sound of someone clearing their throat behind Anxiety made him let out a drawn out sigh. “Speak of the devil,” he deadpanned.

“Talking to yourself?” Deceit shot back.

“What do you _want?_ ” Anxiety’s question came out as a growl.

“Oh, you know, I just want to rewind the clock and go back to when everything was fine and Thomas hadn’t just had his life ruined,” Deceit offered, his voice sickly-sweet.

Anxiety turned back to the counter to retrieve his mug. “I have _not_ had enough coffee to deal with you.”

“ _Failing that_ ,” Deceit went on, talking over him, “it would be _delightful_ if you could stop tormenting Thomas for _five minutes_.”

Anxiety regarded Deceit from behind his cup. “The second I let up, the others are going to jump right back in to try and convince Thomas that this is okay. Don’t think they won’t.”

“I can _handle it_ , if you just _back off_.” Anxiety scoffed, and Deceit’s expression darkened. “You are making Thomas _miserable_ ,” he growled.

“I’m keeping Thomas _safe_.”

“Oh _yes_.” Deceit’s words dripped with sarcasm, and he folded his arms, turning to lean back against the nearest counter. “You’re keeping him safe from all of those other mean people who might _hate him_.”

Anxiety bristled. “It’s true, and you know it.”

Deceit threw his hands up in the air, mocking, but never broke eye contact with Anxiety. “Of course I do! The way to save Thomas from being hated is to just make him hate himself!”

The anxious side hunched his shoulders, but hid the sick feeling of guilt behind anger. He set his coffee cup in the sink before crossing his arms to stare Deceit down again. “We’ve already proven that you can’t take on all three of them. _I can_.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Deceit’s words came out almost as a hiss, and the pupil of his strange left eye— the one that was yellow and slit vertically and freaked Anxiety out– narrowed. “I must have misheard because it sounded like you just called me _weak_.”

Now things were threatening to boil over into a full blown argument. “You were the one who let this happen!”

Deceit really _did_ hiss this time, teeth bared: “Maybe if you had bothered to show up while it still could have _mattered!_ ” Then he jerked his head to the side, shaking it, trying to refocus himself. “That’s not the point— the point is, it happened. But I might be able to start _fixing_ it, if you would just ease up!”

“There’s no _fixing this!_ ” Anxiety snapped back, gesturing with one arm. “The damage is done, and all we can do now is keep it from getting _worse!_ ”

Deceit threw his arms up again, this time in exasperation. “ _This_ is not the only part of Thomas that I’m trying to protect him from! And you’re not making it easier!”

“I’m not here to make your job easier!”

As Deceit and Anxiety’s fight grew more intense, Anxiety’s effect on the mindscape became more and more pronounced, until the other sides could feel it even in their own rooms.

And as the mindscape grew darker and more nerve-wracked— so did Thomas’s thoughts.

 

* * *

 

To say the weekend had been stressful was a massive understatement— even more so because Thomas had to spend the whole time pretending that nothing was wrong.

What would his family think of him? Or his friends, or everyone at church? There was no way he could tell them, no one could know. _But what if they figure it out?_

Thomas had no answers by the time he had to return to school on Monday. He was trying his hardest to pay attention to his classes, to stay focused, but all he could seem to notice was how he was completely and utterly surrounded. Thomas had never been one to be anxious in crowds, but this morning, he felt the presence of every single person like they were all pressing in on him and judging him and he didn’t have room to breathe.

The bell rang for the end of fourth period, and Thomas just about jumped out of his skin.

He let out an unsteady breath, still sitting at his desk while the other kids started to pack up and leave, wishing his heart would slow down just a little. If he could just catch his breath, maybe he could pull himself together.

“Thomas?”

Startled again, Thomas turned to find a familiar face looking down at him. “Taylor?”

His friend watched Thomas for a moment; he hadn’t imagined how uneasy and upset Thomas looked. “…Are you okay?”

Thomas opened his mouth. He wanted so badly to say how he was feeling. How anxious he was. How _scared_.

The words hung on the tip of his tongue.

 

* * *

 

Anxiety wasn’t about to back down.

“If anyone finds out Thomas is gay, he’ll be _destroyed!_ ” he snarled. “I’m the only one who can _protect him_ from that! And I’ll do _whatever_ I have to, to keep him—”

Deceit finally snapped— “ _Shut up!!_ ”

And, without any warning, Anxiety found his own hand yanked upwards to clamp over his mouth, choking his words off into silence.

 

* * *

 

Thomas put on a weak smile.

“…I’m fine.”

 

* * *

 

At first, Anxiety was too stunned to do anything, trying to process what had just happened.

After a moment, he tried to pull his hand away from his face— only to find he couldn’t. Then he tried to pry it off with the other hand. Then he tried to speak, to demand to know _what_ was going on, but no sounds would come. He breathed harshly through his nose, eyes going wide and darting up to Deceit in fear.

Deceit was also breathing hard, staring in shocked silence. But then, his breathing started to even out, and his frame began to relax as he recomposed himself.

“Well. That’s new.” He tilted his head to examine what he’d inadvertently done, and Anxiety jerked back. “Certainly an improvement though, isn’t it?” He smiled coldly at the other side, who could only glare at him.

“You are such an _idiot_ ,” Deceit went on, happily berating Anxiety. “You know those parts of Thomas that I try to protect him from? Those _other sides?_ You’re _one of them_ ,” he spat. “You honestly thought I wanted _anything_ to do with you?? I’ve been trying to rein you in for _years_ now.” He gestured widely with both arms. “I thought, getting you to work with me might just be enough— that if I could just keep a tight enough leash on you, you might actually be useful. But _no_.” He refocused his stare on Anxiety. “You just constantly make everything _so. Much. Harder._ ”

Through all of this, Anxiety’s expression had become furious— but his attempts to yell back at Deceit all died in his throat.

Deceit blinked, noticing Anxiety’s throat working. Then he smirked. “I’m sorry, what was that? Didn’t quite catch what you said.”

Anxiety’s eyes narrowed, his whole body trembling with indignation and distress, and Deceit let out a sound of amusement.

“…Well, I guess I don’t have to worry about that any more, do I?” He gestured lazily to the room around them; he didn’t have to elaborate. They could both feel Anxiety’s influence waning. “I’ll say, this does make things a lot simpler. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Deceit said, tone full of mock politeness, “I’m going to start cleaning up the mess you made.” He spun on a heel and started walking away through the living room.

This time, Anxiety’s eyes grew wide with alarm, and he lunged forward, trying to keep Deceit from leaving.

His fingers wrapped around Deceit’s elbow— only for Deceit to immediately wrench his arm free, then fling Anxiety harshly to the ground. The anxious side tried and failed to catch himself with one arm, and his head slammed into the floor, making his vision swim.

Blinking, Anxiety couldn’t help but tense as he realized that Deceit still loomed over him. But then the dishonest side’s mouth twisted into another smirk; he let out an actual laugh, then crouched down to leer in Anxiety’s face. Despite himself, Anxiety flinched.

“You know, I like you better this way,” Deceit said, sounding cheery. “I bet the others will too. They’ll probably even _thank_ me.” He patted Anxiety on the cheek, making the other side jerk away, before rising back up and sauntering out of the room.

Anxiety was left laying on the floor, curled onto his side, still trembling with indignant rage— hand still over his own mouth, and eyes starting to prickle with hot tears.

 

* * *

 

Thomas spent the whole lunch period by himself, still feeling off— but also telling himself that what he’d been feeling over the past few days wasn’t anything worth bothering Taylor with. In fact, it wasn’t anything at all.

Never mind all the other times he’d been feeling more and more anxious lately. It was no big deal— just a phase. And nobody wanted to hear about it.

 _So, I’m… I’m gay_.

Nobody wanted to hear about that, either.

And nobody had to! So long as he kept pretending everything was normal, it would be. So there was nothing for Thomas to be upset over.

He just needed to get over himself.

 

* * *

 

After who knew how long, Anxiety finally pushed himself up into a sitting position. He put his back against the living room wall, knees curled up in front of him with his one free arm wrapped around them. He _still_ couldn’t get his hand away from his mouth.

He tried to blink against the stinging in his eyes— both because it would be even _more_ humiliating, and because he was still being forced to breathe through his nose. If he started crying and got stuffed up—

Anxiety exhaled harshly, shaking his head against that thought, which was only making him more stressed. He jerked the hood of his jacket up over his head, which he then ducked between his knees. He just needed to breathe and calm down, so he could try to figure out a way to fix this.

Anxiety didn’t get even a minute to himself before he was startled by voices approaching. His first instinct was to run, but he was still on the floor and not in an easy position to scramble up from. He couldn’t focus enough to sink out— and Anxiety was left with no option to flee as Morality and Roman suddenly rounded the corner, able to do no more than bury his face in his knees again.

“Come on, we all heard them fighting. You could hardly _miss_ it.”

“I’m just saying, we need to be careful. Thomas is still—”

Both Morality and Roman halted, brought up short by the sight in front of them. They exchanged a look, before Roman’s leery gaze slid back to Anxiety. He had to have noticed them walking in, and yet he was just sitting there on the floor, not saying anything.

“…What exactly are you doing? Or,” Roman went on sarcastically, unable to resist needling the other side, “are you crying on the floor because Deceit hurt your feelings?”

“ _Roman_.”

Anxiety tensed visibly, but still refused to lift his head any more than he had to— just enough to glare hatefully at Roman. When he did, Morality managed to catch that his eyes were red.

Roman’s eyes narrowed. “Well? Are you going to answer, or just sit there like some kind of gargoyle?” His voice grew peevish. “Come on, _cat got your tongue?_ ”

Anxiety jerked at that, as though to jump up at Roman, but caught himself; he looked away instead, eyes stinging again, as though this wasn’t mortifying enough.

Morality abruptly cut in before the creative side could say more— “Roman, I don’t think he _can_.” Then he knelt in front of Anxiety, who hunched tighter, pulling his free arm up and ducking his face into the sleeve of his hoodie— only for Morality to gently pull at his elbow. Anxiety resisted, but Morality insisted firmly, “Let me see.”

Anxiety still sat stiffly, not wanting to open himself to even _more_ ridicule. But he couldn’t get away from them, and he couldn’t exactly tell them to get away from _him_. Finally he relented, and Morality pushed his right arm down. The anxious side tried to bury his face further into his own knees, but he couldn’t keep them from seeing the humiliating way in which he’d been silenced.

“What in the world?” Roman breathed. “What are you…”

Anxiety felt a hand brush past one of his knees, cupping under his chin. He hunched even tighter.

“…Did Deceit do this?”

The soft words made Anxiety glare upwards at Morality, not even bothering to hide the angry tears this time. He wanted to spit, _what do you think?_ He wished they would just go away and leave him alone! Instead, Morality was sitting there, staring into his eyes, his expression unreadable and _God_ , Anxiety just wanted to curl up and die but they wouldn’t even leave him to his misery, they just had to _rub it in_.

The silence was broken by a snort, followed by a poorly stifled laugh.

“ _Roman!_ ”

Morality shot the creative side a hard look, and Roman stopped, but protested: “Oh come _on!_ ” He gestured to Anxiety. “You don’t think it’s just a _little_ ironic? And besides, after everything he’s been putting Thomas through, you can’t say he didn’t deserve—”

“How would you feel if it was _you_ , Roman?” Morality said over him, voice heated. “If _you_ were the one who couldn’t talk, and you had someone standing over you, laughing?”

Roman’s mouth hung open, words dying in his throat, and his face grew warm as he flushed at Morality’s reprimand.

The silence hung heavily over the room for a long moment, before Morality spoke again, quieter this time. “Lunch is almost over. Could you go help Logic get Thomas focused on class?”

“What?” Roman started to protest, but Morality just shot him another look, and Roman huffed. “Fine, _dad_ ,” he muttered sarcastically, and stalked off.

Morality waited until Roman’s footsteps faded. One more time, he pushed gently at Anxiety’s chin, trying to coax the other side into lifting his head. Turning his own head a little bit, he tried to get a better look, his mouth pulled into a small frown.

Anxiety gave up on fighting, and let Morality manipulate him; at this point, he had no dignity left to spare, and he was just _tired_. His gaze drifted off to the side, away from Morality. _Just let him satisfy his curiosity. It’s not like they’re not all going to know exactly what happened anyways._

He couldn’t help the thought that, Morality probably _did_ think he deserved this, after Friday. After what he did three years ago.

He was probably right.

Morality hummed in thought, before looking up and tilting his head again to try to meet the anxious side’s averted gaze. Anxiety’s eyes flicked up to him.

“…Can I try to help?”

Anxiety scowled. Help _how?_ What did Morality think he was going to do? Some of his anger started to return too, wondering if this was just some platitude. He didn’t want Morality’s pity any more than he wanted Creativity— sorry, _Roman’s—_  ridicule.

And, there was a part of him that, despite Morality’s gentle touch and soft voice, didn’t believe him. Why in the world would he want to help _Anxiety?_ Why wouldn’t he be _glad_ that he was silenced, that Thomas couldn’t hear him?

Anxiety hunched up again. Morality continued to watch him quietly, patiently.

Seeming to deflate, Anxiety let out a shuddering breath. Then, at last, he gave a weak, half-hearted shrug, as though to say: _I don’t care what you do_.

Morality hesitated for a beat. Then, he carefully took a hold of the hand over Anxiety’s mouth with one of his, and slid his other hand from underneath Anxiety’s chin to in front of it. Gently, he tried to pull at Anxiety’s hand— which, predictably, didn’t budge.

Anxiety let out a sigh through his nose, giving Morality a droll look. “I know,” Morality said, contrite. “I’m sure you must have tried that already.”

This time, Anxiety snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Well, the thing is…” Morality adjusted his grip, trying to get the tips of his fingers around Anxiety’s. “Deceit’s the one who did this. And, I’m sure he’s probably telling Thomas all sorts of things right now— like that he doesn’t need to listen to you, or maybe that he doesn’t need you at all.”

 

* * *

 

The lunch bell rang. Thomas blinked, then shook his head, grabbing for his backpack before walking his tray of half-eaten food to the nearest trash can.

He gripped at the straps on his shoulders; the oppressive sensation from this morning was gone, thank goodness, which made walking through the crowded hallways a little less stressful. He started to head for his sixth period class, still not knowing _what_ he was feeling.

It was little wonder that he was surprised yet again, when Taylor appeared at his left elbow, nudging him in the arm. “Taylor! Hey. Sorry…” He looked down, unsure what to say.

“Hey, Thomas.” Taylor scratched at the back of his neck while they walked. “…Are you really okay?” he asked all of a sudden. Thomas stopped in the middle of the hall, forcing other kids to go around the two of them.

He opened his mouth; the answer caught in his throat.

 

* * *

 

“But… that’s the thing about being Morality.”

The side’s face was twisted and his voice strained with effort— but he was starting to peel Anxiety’s fingers up.

“I know that the best thing to do is, pretty much always, to tell the truth— even to _ourselves—_ ”

With one final tug and a grunt of effort, Morality managed to pry Anxiety’s hand free of his face, and the anxious side gasped for air.

 

* * *

 

Thomas finally answered in a small voice— truthfully— “I… don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

“…And I think, Thomas does too,” Morality concluded, voice quiet but satisfied.

Anxiety let out a long, bedraggled sigh, pressing his back against the wall, wrapping both arms around his chest and closing his eyes. Morality leaned back on his hands and shifted into a cross-legged position.

 

* * *

 

Taylor pulled back a little, looking uncertain. Thomas twisted the straps of his backpack between his fingers, worry making his lunch roll in his stomach. But, before he had the chance to feel too anxious over weirding out his best friend, Taylor simply said, “Well, hey… do you want to come over and hang out after school today?”

Thomas hesitated, before cracking a small smile. “Yeah, I…” He nodded. “Thanks.” Taylor punched him lightly in the arm, and Thomas’s smile grew a little wider.

“Yeah, man. No problem.”

 

* * *

 

Both sides just sat there on the floor for a minute. Anxiety continued to breathe hard, finally feeling like he could get enough air.

“Anxiety?”

The anxious side’s eyes shot open, and he looked back over to Morality, wary.

“…What Deceit did, was wrong,” Morality started, then hesitated. Anxiety watched him carefully, still not saying anything. “I know… we don’t really get along. But, if… you ever need…” He trailed off, biting his lip, as Anxiety started to tense up then pointedly looked away.

Morality glanced down, then let out a breath. After a few more seconds of silence, he finally pushed himself to his feet, deciding to leave and let Anxiety be.

Anxiety watched him, then after a moment, started, “Morality—” That halted the other side, making him pause and turn around. The silence stretched.

Anxiety knew he owed Morality more than that, but the words were caught in his throat— this time, not by Deceit, but by his own inability to handle being so earnest. He hated it, hated himself for not being able to say it—

“Patton,” Morality offered, startling Anxiety out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Patton,” he repeated. “It’s… the name I picked out. I haven’t told the others yet,” he admitted with a half shrug and an almost embarrassed looking smile.

“…Patton,” Anxiety said after a second. Morality— Patton’s— smile became a little more genuine, and finally, Anxiety just gave a jerked nod. Patton’s smile turned just a bit wry, but he nodded back, and Anxiety got the feeling that Patton understood exactly what he wasn’t saying.

At last, Patton departed, and Anxiety deflated completely. He was emotionally and physically exhausted, to go with his usual mental exhaustion; his limbs felt like lead. He took a few more breaths, before finally summoning up the will to sink out and return to his own room.

There was still a part of him that was loathe to sleep, after what happened the last time. But, despite his misgivings, Anxiety eventually let out a breath, and crawled into his bed, trying not to groan from sheer relief.

He rolled over onto his back and lay there, staring up at the ceiling, for at least a good couple of minutes. He was ready to fall asleep—  _for once—_  and he desperately needed it. But… he also needed a few minutes to process.

As much as he wanted to be done with this morning and put the whole thing out of his mind… Things in the mindscape had just undergone a massive shift, and Anxiety didn’t know by how much. All he knew was that, things were going to keep changing.

And that terrified him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from tumblr (@ajax-blue). 
> 
> A follow up to my previous piece, Denial, although it can be read independently. I think there’s going to be a couple more after this as well.


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